


like tiny fragile shells drifting in the foam

by pRESENTMIC



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Flashbacks, M/M, Past Character Death, based off of Avatar the Last Airbender, everyone else is mentioned - Freeform, slightly OOC, the main characters in all this are george washington and john laurens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pRESENTMIC/pseuds/pRESENTMIC
Summary: Alexander Hamilton





	

George slipped his arms into the coat he was holding. He buttoned it closed and walked towards the door to tie on his shoes. He was going to the market today. George twisted the doorknob and turned his head to look at the picture of them.

A short, long-haired boy who had his arms wrapped around a tall, lean figure. Two peas in a pod.

George gave the photo a soft smile. “I’ll be back soon, boys.” He whispered, then stepped out onto the porch. No one was out playing in the neighborhood today. The girl, Eliza, was usually outside with her sisters taking a walk at this time of day. Perhaps they had decided to sleep in.

George made his way down the block and spotted the neighborhood’s outdoor market that was set up every Friday. He was well acquainted with all the sellers. No one seemed to greet him cheerfully today. He stopped and examined the baskets that were strewn on the wooden countertop. A young man, presumably in his early twenties, smiled at George.

“Welcome! These are our large vary of baskets. We have woven baskets, and plastic ones.”

George nodded and ran a hand across a unique looking one. It had small designs stitched into the exterior wooden walls. “Good choice! Those are great for dates. Do you have a special someone waiting for you?”

George chuckled and shook his head. “I am much too old to be going on dates.”

“Nonsense! Age doesn't matter when it comes to romance.”

_“Hey, Alex!”_

_“What’s up, John?”_

_“Do you want to come over to my place? There's going to be cheap liquor!”_

_“Sign me up.”_

George forced out another laugh and gestured towards the basket. “How much does this one cost?”

“Twelve dollars.”

He unfolded his wallet and pulled out his credit card, as he handed it over to the cashier he attempted to push back the memories that threatened to make themselves known.

_Alex looked up at George’s mock disappointed face. “You went to a café with John, and didn't get me a frappucino?”_

_“Frappucinos are expensive!” Alex had retorted, a smile on his face._

_George put a hand to his chest and gave him a somber look. “My wish to drink a PSL will never come true.”_

_“True that.”_

“Thank you.” George took the basket and clenched the handle. He plastered a smile on his face as he walked passed the other stores. Today was Alexander’s anniversary. He had been drafted to Iraq nine months ago and had been bombed. His co-pilot, Mulligan, had survived the ordeal and had sent his best wishes to Washington. His life was a hurricane of shit and it wasn't ever going to change. He was old now, he didn't have any friends, he was constantly alone and everyone he had loved was gone.

The only thing left to do was to keep Alex’s memories going. He would continue to struggle his way out of bed and cook himself a meal. He would continue to experience nightmares, and he would continue to console John Laurens, Alexander’s boyfriend at the time.

Speaking of Laurens…

George’s phone vibrated intensely in his pocket. He flipped it out and swiped his finger across the cracked screen. “Hello, John.”

“Hello, General.” That had been an inside joke between them after Alex had saluted George one night.

“How are you doing?” George shifted his fingers around as they started to cramp around the basket handle.

“Honestly, I feel shitty. How about you?”

“Fine.” George felt a sick weight growing heavier in his stomach. Emotions were too complex to understand. He regretted not graduating with a degree in psychology. That would have been useful.

“Mm.” The phone audio crackled as John moved around his room. “Do you need to talk to the Schuyler sisters again?”

George felt a slight smile dance across his face. “I’m a grown man, Laurens.” After Alexander's death, his friends, the “Schuyler sisters” had decided to visit him. George was a lonely man. Martha had filed a divorce a few months after adopting Alex for unspoken reasons. Alexander had helped him plow through the situation and all was fixed. Unexpectedly, that lead George to meet his son’s boyfriends and his group of close friends. They had bonded over time and still kept in contact with George.

After Alexander’s death, George had no motivation to continue. He was aging and alone and sure, he was a senator, but that didn't make him indestructible. Laurens, (after a quick pop-in) had alerted the sisters and they had barged into his home, forcing him to accept their (wonderfully baked) cookies. They stayed with him for a few weeks until they were convinced he was improving (albeit incredibly slowly).

“That's not necessary, son.” George spotted his house a few feet away and decided to walk faster. “I assure you that I am a perfectly healthy forty-one year old man.”

“Man, you're old.” John joked. Even through his light tone George could sense John’s longing through the phone.

“Remember to stay home today.” George said sternly. He gave his phone a pointed look as he opened his front door. “You don't need any stress.”

“I wish I could stay home everyday.” John sighed wistfully. “But, yeah. Alright, I’ll take a break from my summer classes today.”

George let out a huff of approval and closed the door shut behind him. He made his way to the kitchen and began to scavenge for food in the refrigerator. Kiwis, check, apples, check, baguettes, check. Hamilton had always loved baguettes.

George carefully arranged the fruits and the bread into the basket and picked it up once again. He moved to the back of his house and looked out the backyard window. Alexander’s official grave was in a military cemetery, but George had made a makeshift one in his backyard. It had made him feel more comfortable.

He stepped outside and walked over to the small shrine placed underneath the cherry tree they had planted together. It was tall and beautiful now. A few cherry blossom petals had fallen onto the stone George had placed down. He brushed them away and caressed the carven words in the tomb: _Alexander Hamilton. A loving son. 1997-2016_

George placed the basket next to the stone and patted the iridescent grass that had grown around the grave. “ _Little soldier boy, come marching home…_ “

George echoed the lost words that Alexander had written once. “ _Brave soldier boy, come marching home. Those leaves did grow, from branches overgrown…_ ”

George’s shoulders slouched as he continued to pet the stone, comforting himself.

Alexander Hamilton was long gone.


End file.
